


Round Two

by epeolatry



Series: Revolutions in My Mind (Revolutions in Your Bed) [16]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Come Eating, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:11:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeolatry/pseuds/epeolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Round Two continues on from Tonight - pure PWP! Enjolras loses his virginity to R.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Round Two

 

_“I think I’m ready for round two.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras’ face was a mask of quiet control, but Grantaire could see through his trousers how aroused he was, and he could guess at the nerves lurking below that façade of assurance.

 

“How do you want me, on my knees or on my back?” Grantaire hazarded.

 

“Which is more comfortable for you?”

 

_Yes, definitely nervous_.

 

Grantaire smiled reassuringly, “You know what, I’ll decide in a minute, first just let me…”

 

And he arched off Enjolras’ lap, rocking back onto his heels to inspect the mess he had made of Enjolras’ favourite jeans. Enjolras was nervous, and Enjolras being nervous made Grantaire nervous, so it was now Grantaire’s job to put Enjolras back at his ease. The best way Grantaire could think of doing this was to demonstrate once again his absolute and abject submission to the student, reminding Enjolras who was in total control of the situation. So he boldly stared Enjolras right in the eye while lowering his face to the student’s crotch and slowly, so agonisingly slowly, licked a long stripe up the material, catching his own come on his tongue. Once he was sure Enjolras was enthralled with the display he flicked his eyes downward and continued to clean up his own mess, obscenely thorough in his ministrations, making sure that the trousers were spotless before glancing back up at Enjolras and licking his lips with a smirk.

 

Enjolras was gazing down at him, mouth hanging slightly open, but his eyes were aflame with the dark lust Grantaire had hoped to inspire.

 

“How do you want me?” he repeated, voice low and sultry.

 

“Get on your back. Feet on the mattress, knees in the air.”

 

Perfect. Grantaire’s ruse had achieved its aim and he was more than happy to cede control back to Enjolras, laying himself down as he was told and relishing the sting of the bedclothes against his reddened ass.

 

“I hope you bought lube, because after that little display I might just have to fuck you regardless,” threatened Enjolras, sending a shudder through Grantaire. The artist motioned to the bedside cabinet, the drawer of which contained a brand new bottle of lube bought specially for tonight.

 

 “What about protection?”

 

“Don’t worry, I’m on the Pill,” Grantaire deadpanned, earning himself another stinging slap to the face.

 

Enjolras scrabbled in the drawer for another moment before also finding a condom, which he placed in readiness on the cabinet.

 

“Ready, slut?”

 

Grantaire nodded enthusiastically against the pillows, unable to suppress the grin that rolled across his face. His cock was already filling again in anticipation of finally getting what he had wanted for so long and his body was positively humming with want.

 

“Good boy,” murmured Enjolras, easing his knees further apart and kneeling between them as he coated his fingers in lube. _Hot damn_. He was doing it in full sight and Grantaire, and in full knowledge of what that sight would do to the artist. Even after all this time together, all the filthy things they had done, Grantaire still felt his breath hitch at the sight of Enjolras - pure, virginal, practically asexual _Enjolras_ \- coating his fingers in lube, about to fuck him open and make him scream.

 

Smirking, Enjolras eyeballed Grantaire as he did it, spending far more time than necessary smearing the liquid across his digits. Finally – _finally!_ – he lowered his hand, trailing one finger coldly and wetly down from the swollen tip of Grantaire’s cock, down the shaft, over his balls, across his perineum (pressing there to make Grantaire’s breath hitch again, _the bastard_ ), and finally between the cleft of his ass, coming to rest lightly against his hole.

 

Grantaire groaned and tried to shift his hips, tried to force Enjolras to breach him, but the student merely withdrew that teasing finger, smiling sadistically as Grantaire keened beneath him.

 

“Please Enj, _please_ , come on, _god_ , I need you!”

 

“You can beg more nicely, I’m sure.”

 

Grantaire’s brain felt like it was short circuiting as the words poured out of his mouth, torn from him by Enjolras’ will alone; “Please, please, please, I need you inside me, I need you to fuck me with your hand. I want you to open me up, make me scream for you, get me ready for your cock, _please!_ ”

 

“Hmm. Have you really been so good tonight that you’ve earned my cock? It’s a privilege, not a right, and one that I may yet choose to withhold.”

 

“Wh-what?” Grantaire almost sobbed at the thought, and he felt real tears pricking the corners of his eyes, “But you promised! Please Enjolras, I need you so bad, I’ll do anything you want! Just fuck me! _Please!_ ”

 

Enjolras realised he may have overstepped a boundary and quickly amended, “Shh, I won’t leave you like this, so empty and desperate,” he slid one finger deftly inside Grantaire almost up to the knuckle, making the artist hiss, his body tightening automatically at the intrusion then relaxing again as he groaned quietly in pleasure.

 

“Good boy,” smiled Enjolras, working the digit slowly in and out, “See how easy it is for me to make you happy? Such a sweet little pet, so ready to take anything I can give you.” The student added another long finger, gently scissoring them after a moment and stretching Grantaire into readiness.

 

Grantaire groaned as Enjolras spoke, the words not necessarily reaching him but the low timbre of the voice comforting as he adjusted to the feeling inside him, the stretch burning but also satisfying in a way that only being hurt by Enjolras could be.

 

“More, please,” he moaned, hips jerking of their own accord, his sore cheeks rubbing painfully against the sheets as he did so.

 

“Greedy boy,” admonished Enjolras gently, pushing his two fingers in deeper and harder than before to make Grantaire whimper, “I told you what would be happening tonight. First I made you come by spanking you, next I’m going to make you come just with my hands, and finally you’re going to come, screaming and crying, with my cock inside you. We’re only up to the second step. Have patience.”

 

Grantaire gave an oddly rebellious sounding grunt and attempted to thrust himself further down on Enjolras’ hand, but a sharp slap to his inner thigh aborted the movement and turned the grunt into a whimper.

 

“Behave,” ordered Enjolras warningly, and Grantaire settled down, only moving when his hips gave little unconscious jerks of their own, his shining eyes closed and his forehead creased with the effort of controlling himself. Enjolras was impressed by this show of obedience and decided to reward his boy, adding a third finger and formulating an Alternative Ending to the second step of his plan.

 

Grantaire moaned loudly at the stretch, Enjolras doing away with gentility after a few moments and simply fucking Grantaire on his hand. He found the perfect angle to make the artist yelp and jerk with pleasure, something he made sure to take advantage of every few strokes, building Grantaire up then letting him go unfinished. Finally, when Grantaire was panting helplessly, his head tossing from side to side and his fists clenched white with need, Enjolras decided to show mercy.

 

Very slowly, he withdrew all three digits, watching hungrily as they slid out of Grantaire, electrified by the thought that very soon it would be his cock in that slick tightness, with Grantaire’s body grasping at _that_ , unwilling to let him go… It was enough to make him glad he had jerked off right before coming home.

 

As Grantaire made a mournful noise at his sudden emptiness Enjolras shushed him and wrapped his wet hand around the artist’s straining cock, beginning to jerk him just as he had himself a few hours previously.

 

“Yes, more. Please. I need- _Inside_ ,” panted Grantaire brokenly, but Enjolras knew exactly what he meant. It was time to instigate the Alternative Ending.

 

Keeping his hand wrapped around Grantaire’s cock, his movements firm and fast, Enjolras lowered his head between the other boy’s legs and _licked_.

 

Grantaire yelled.

 

Enjolras had never heard Grantaire yell like that before.

 

So he did it again.

 

Enjolras swiped lazy strokes of his tongue across Grantaire’s ready entrance as he continued to pump his cock, making the artist babble incoherently, words and thoughts and noises meshing into one long keen as Enjolras prodded his tongue inside.

 

It only took two more jerks of his hand to have Grantaire coming hard, his body going momentarily rigid then sagging as his orgasm continued to pump out of him. Enjolras remained as he was, lapping at Grantaire’s hole and strangely disappointed that he couldn’t stay there any longer, interested in this new way of giving his lover pleasure, this act that could make Grantaire scream and buck and come almost immediately.

 

Eventually though he had to move away, his own arousal dangerously piqued at the sight of Grantaire coming down once again, come splattered over his stomach and dripping viscously from Enjolras’ fist.

 

“You- can’t fucking believe you,” groaned Grantaire hoarsely, once he had sufficiently recovered his powers of speech. But Enjolras wasn’t interested in hearing his praises sung at that moment; at that particular moment he was ragingly horny and interested mainly in achieving orgasm himself. This was it.

 

“Spread your legs,” he ordered imperiously, and although Grantaire already looked fucked out beyond belief and was certainly not going to be getting hard again for a while, he obeyed wide eyed, his submission clear to see on his eager face.

 

Swiftly, Enjolras reached over to the bedside cabinet and grabbed the condom. Just as he was about to tear the wrapper Grantaire’s hand closed over his and he whispered, “Let me.”

 

Nodding once, Enjolras handed over the responsibility to Grantaire, who ripped open the packet easily and put the condom in his mouth- _oh_. Enjolras was already dangerously aroused but he didn’t have the will power left to stop Grantaire from slowly, delicately rolling the condom onto him with his mouth, determined to serve Enjolras regardless of how tired and sore he must already be.

 

“Good boy,” breathed Enjolras when the job was done. He stroked himself a couple of times with the handful of lube and come he already had, wanting to ensure everything was wet enough for Grantaire. And then the moment had arrived, there was nothing for it but to just-

 

Grantaire’s mouth fell open and his already hazy eyes seemed to glaze over entirely as Enjolras lined himself up, the head of his cock pressing gently against the artist’s entrance. Enjolras felt shaky, felt his control slipping in the magnitude of the moment, but he was determined to see this through, because he wanted it, and because Grantaire wanted it.

 

“Need you,” whimpered Grantaire, all sweaty curls and pleading eyes, his abdomen splattered in white and his heat wrapped invitingly around Enjolras, crossed legs pressing into his lower back and urging him forward…

 

The first thrust was deep and fast, pushing the air out of Grantaire at the same moment it caused Enjolras inhale sharply; the sensation was incredible but more than that, he felt the importance of this act, the literal joining of two bodies, the trust that Grantaire placed in him and the reciprocal care he took over that trust. Grantaire was his, was marked by him in bruises and handprints and bite marks and semen, but now he truly belonged to him in every way, and the thought was so gratifying that Enjolras had to exercise every ounce of his considerable self control to stop himself from coming right that second.

 

“Move,” begged Grantaire below him, his voice little more than a whimper as he dug his heels insistently into Enjolras’ ass. He wasn’t hard yet but his breathing was ragged and his eyes unfocused, like they always were when he fell into subspace, and for once Enjolras obeyed Grantaire’s command, pulling out and thrusting back in quickly, loathe to leave Grantaire’s hot, wet embrace.

 

It was quiet, save for the slapping of skin against skin, Enjolras’ words lost in the heady realm of feeling as he tried to memorise every tiny aspect of every second; the way a stray curl of sweat-soaked hair clung to one of Grantaire’s eyelashes, shifting every time he blinked; the stark whiteness of Grantaire’s knuckles every time his hands convulsively gripped the pale blue sheets; the way his cock twitched and stirred, so desperate to please yet not quite able to yet; the beads of sweat that gleamed around his collar bones, one droplet running down his chest to collide with a puddle of come, the two liquids mixing dizzyingly together, entwined like Grantaire and Enjolras in the most natural embrace in the world.

 

Enjolras hadn’t expected it to be like this, slow and smooth and natural. He had expected roughness, desperation, a touch of sweetness perhaps, certainly gentleness as they came down together, the usual soothing aftercare of soft words and comforting caresses, but all preceded by fierce lust, hot mouths, and savage hips… He had expected to _fuck_. Instead he found himself making love, a phrase which had turned his stomach since childhood yet which was now lodged firmly in his mind as the only correct terminology for the act he was taking part in.

 

“Grantaire,” he heard the name spilling unbidden from his mouth as he gradually picked up the pace of his hips, long, slow slides becoming sharper, faster thrusts, “Grantaire, Grantaire, Grantaire,” it was a mantra, the only thing anchoring him to the real world, the only way to save himself from becoming hopelessly lost in the sensations that threatened to engulf him, body and soul.

 

“Enjolras,” the moan was long and low and hoarse, but unmistakably a name, an answer to Enjolras’ own pleas, a reassurance that yes he was here, and yes everything was alright. More than alright. Everything was more alright than it had ever been before.

 

Enjolras reached down between them and grasped Grantaire’s cock, eliciting another low moan from his boyfriend. He knew it must hurt by now, must be sensitive after coming twice before so rapidly, but he had promised, _promised,_ to make Grantaire come like this, come screaming, so he would do his best to deliver on that. He tugged in time with his thrusts, or tried to at least, his natural rhythm overwhelmed by the immensity of these new sensations, and it was probably the worst hand job Grantaire had ever received but it was okay because he was whimpering and moaning and pulling Enjolras ever closer into him with the legs locked behind the student’s back, tilting his hips up and up, responding to the faster pace, his cock growing harder by the second.

 

Enjolras accepted the wordless direction and increased the pace of his hips, slamming harder and deeper into Grantaire and making the artist groan loudly each time. But groaning wasn’t enough, he was going to come _screaming_ , Enjolras had _promised_. Faster, harder, ever closer to his own release, Enjolras had already made love to Grantaire and _now_ they were fucking, and just as Enjolras thought he was going to have to break his promise after all Grantaire tilted his hips up again and _screamed_ , the length buried deep inside him slamming into that sensitive spot at the very same second that Enjolras gave a particularly hard pull on his cock.

 

Grantaire had tears in his eyes as he came, spilling across Enjolras’ fist for the second time, and again splattering some on his stomach. The image was enough for Enjolras, who pushed in twice more before coming himself, his orgasm ripping through him like it never had before and drawing a shout of “ _’Aire!_ ” from his lips.

 

He remained on his knees above Grantaire, buried to the hilt, shuddering for some minutes. It was only as Grantaire began to stir weakly beneath him that Enjolras really managed to come back to himself, slowly and regretfully pulling out, watching his boyfriend’s face for any sign of discomfort. But the only thing on Grantaire’s face was a haze of pure pleasure, a smile too tired to really be more than a tug at his lips, eyes so heavily lidded they might as well have been closed, and a flush on his cheeks that matched the sweat in his hair.

 

Enjolras quickly disposed of the condom and lay down beside Grantaire, tired and sweaty himself but satisfied like he never had been before. The only thing stopping him from sinking into sleep was an edge of nervousness, which he decided to quash before it became anything more and ruined his high.

 

“Was that- was it good?”

 

Grantaire’s weak smile blossomed into a grin as he leaned over to kiss Enjolras lightly on the lips, “It was the best.”

 

“You’re just saying that,” Enjolras blustered, though secretly pleased.

 

“I’m not. Best sex ever, ten out of ten. Now please stop worrying and just hold me.”

 

Enjolras obliged gladly, not even finding it in himself to care when Grantaire cleaned up the mess on his stomach and on Enjolras’ hand with his boxer shorts. He was warm and content with Grantaire in his arms, pleasantly tired, and very, very sure that he was in love. They fell asleep almost instantly and remained entwined all night.


End file.
